The Incredible Grin
by pressontoknow
Summary: Fred gives me a grin that is much too bright for the innocent things I just said. "Always nice of you to drop by and see us. Isn't it, Georgie?" Hermione/George after the war.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I've been wanting to write a George/Hermione fic for awhile now. In this fic Fred is still alive. I did this mostly because I love the twin-twin interaction. Also, I have a twin sister myself, and even thinking about her death is too horrible to think about, so I didn't want to put George through that.**

**I'd originally planned to kill Ron off so he wouldn't be in the way of George and Hermione, but then I decided I wanted them to come together _in spite_ of Ron. So in those two senses the story's AU.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Leave me a review, let me know what you think. I'll be putting up a chapter every few days or so. Merry Christmas, everyone!**

**Disclaimer: all characters belong to Rowling and are not my own.**

Chapter 1

Things change when I'm around him.

I usually think of myself as a fairly graceful woman, pretty light on my feet you might say. After all, I _had_ spent half my life traipsing about the world with Harry Potter and had managed to avoid an early death. But all it takes is one look from him and I turn into a bumbling fool. Heaven forbid he _smile_ at me. I once missed a step on a flight of stairs at the Burrow from one such look and ended up spending Christmas Eve at St. Mungo's with a concussion.

It's times like these that lead me to question my very existence.

It's just very difficult to keep one's mind on one's feet when he's laughing with Fred and he catches my eye and winks, or when I actually manage to say something funny and make him laugh. It's those genuine smiles—not the smirks or the flirty twerks of the lips or the tolerant ones when I get into a rant about some sort of factual knowledge—but the ones that light up his eyes and show all his teeth and make his face crinkle up, that really do me in.

It really is amazing that all I've ended up with is a concussion when he smiles at me like that. Especially since there had been a faze when simple _breathing_ had been difficult when combined with him. In fact, I still experience that particular dilemma sometimes. It's the Incredible Grin, as I've dubbed it—IG for short. I just can't handle it.

Lately, however, things seem to be improving. My heart has finally caught up with my brain after I delivered a very eloquent, very _heated_ argument about how I shouldn't _have_ to be thinking about breathing—twenty-two years of living ought to have given both heart and brain time to adjust to each other and work in coordination. And they have apparently taken my little speech to heart—hehe, very punny, Hermione—as things are working smoothly now.

And sure, I still have my clumsy spells. But I've seen significant improvement since I put into action the plan I like to call "How to Act Like a Normal Human Being".

Step 1: Give heart and brain a good talking to, and make sure they listen up. Obviously, as heretofore mentioned, this step of the plan went swimmingly and has now been checked off my list.

Yes, there is an actual list for the plan. One I keep hidden in my journal, hidden in the handbag with the undetectable extension, where no one will ever find it.

Step 2: Get a good job, renovate my wardrobe, and stop worrying about what everyone thinks.

Part A was completed last week, when I was hired at Hogwarts as an Arithmancy professor. I've spent the last three years at university—six courses a semester, including summers—and rushed to finish early because McGonagall had given me a heads up that Professor Vector, Arithmancy professor for the past several decades, was finally retiring and a new position would be opening. Well, I almost killed myself finishing early due to a workload even more overwhelming than I _ever _experienced at Hogwarts, but thanks to McGonagall I got my foot in the door and the board was quick to hire me after seeing my qualifications and receiving a very nice recommendation from old Minerva herself.

Part B is not too difficult. After all, I _did_ receive an E in Transfiguration. I not only want to appear more attractive and mature, but I also want to appear professional. I'm going to be a professor, and I'd like to be treated as such, even by those who knew me growing up.

It's easier said than done.

Part C is the hard part. Obviously, I am a perfectionist. A place for everything and everything in its place, all that. Well, I'm sick of it. This is _my_ life. And I've already done far more than I ever imagined. Four years ago I assisted _the Boy Who Lived_ in defeating _the Dark Lord_, for heaven's sake! I graduated university a year and a half early. And I'm going to be working at one of the most prestigious magical schools in the world.

Yes, I have bushy hair. Well, you know what? My mum had bushy hair. And in all likelihood, I'll never be a part of her life again, so I'd like to keep this small fragment I have of her. Besides, I _like_ my hair! It's got personality! In fact, my hair is probably half of _my_ personality.

Hehe. I kid. I think.

And I like reading. Well, all of that reading was certainly put to good use in all my years with Harry, so I have no regrets. I enjoy knowledge. Uni taught me that there's certainly no problem with that.

And I keep to myself. I _like_ being by myself for hours at a time. Crowds overwhelm me, and I _hate_ being the center of attention. The best kind of day in my mind is one with no plans, nothing to do, just a good book and a cup of tea and maybe a jaunt in the countryside. I don't have many friends, but I value those I do have, and I don't want any more.

All that to say, I like who I am. I'm outside of the box, different from other girls. And that's okay with me.

So far all I have are the first two steps. I might add more in the future, but I have enough to handle with just the second one for now.

All that to say, this plan has already brought improvement to my life. I'm not always bowing to everyone's whim and finding it impossible to say no or fretting about my looks. I'm happier, more…content. More confident.

So today, I'm going to walk into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, have a nice conversation with Fred and George, and calmly go about the rest of my day.

After I knock this elderly woman over, of course.

"Oh my word!" I exclaim, falling to my knees beside the old dame. "Ma'am, are you alright? I'm so sorry!"

She waves her hand at me and allows me to give her a hand up from the hardwood floors of the Weasley establishment. "Don't you worry about it, m'dear. I know you were probably trying to knock me into an early grave, but at least it didn't work out, right?"

I gasp. "No, ma'am, that was not my intention at all…" I see the twinkle in her eye and manage a small smile. "I'm really very sorry. Can I help you with your things?" I gesture to the two small bags she's carrying.

"Oh, no thank you," she assures, "I live just across the way. You have a lovely day, sweetheart." She winks at me and walks out the door. I'm careful to stay out of her path.

"Hermione!" Fred greets me with a grin as I cautiously make my way to the counter. "Always a pleasure to see such a fair maiden as yourself."

I lean my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands. "Oh Merlin, Fred. I'm fairly certain I'm one of the clumsiest people in the entire world. Actually, there's really no doubt about it."

He looks at me quizzically. "And what's brought this on, then?"

It's terrible, I know, but right about now I'm in the midst of an adrenaline rush and, the more I think about it, the whole situation _was_ rather comical. "I just knocked one of your customers to the ground!" I exclaim with a snicker.

"You what?!" he yelps, chancing a quick glance at the doorway. "But you've only just got here!"

"I know!" I shout. For some reason both of our voices are quickly escalating in volume, and I keep emitting the random snicker. "I knocked her over just as I was coming through the door!"

Fred barks out a laugh. "Well, apparently it wasn't _all_ that bad. Doesn't look like she's charged you with attempt to harm."

My eyes widen. "No, I suppose not but…but she was _old_, Fred! It was as if I'd knocked your _Gran_ to the ground!"

"You knocked our Gran to the ground?"

"George!" Fred cries, grinning as his brother makes his way from the backroom and comes to stand beside me at the counter. I manage a small smile even as my heart stutters. He has no idea how attractive he is. Which of course makes him ten times more attractive. He wears his hair longer now to hide his missing ear, and every once in awhile it falls rakishly in front of his eyes and he casually sweeps it away…

It's enough to make any girl fall down a flight of stairs.

"Yes," Fred continues solemnly, "there is now one less Weasley in the world. Let us have a moment of silence." He assumes a serious expression and clasps his hands reverently.

"Fred, you prat!" I exclaim. I turn to his twin. "George, that is not what happened at all. I merely…" well, now that I think about it, it's a very similar situation, "I merely knocked a _different_ old woman to the ground."

He quirks an eyebrow at me and allows a small smile. "Oh, well, of course everything's fine then. I _had_ always thought there was a bit _too_ much respect given to the elderly. Gotta keep 'em light on their feet, eh?"

I snicker. Though sarcasm is called the lowest form of humor, it is _my_ favorite and basically the only one I'm any good at. My sense of humor always seems to mix rather well with George's, like now, just playing off of each other's quips. "Quite right," I grin. "Never know when they might have to dodge a renegade wheelchair or whip out an umbrella to avoid catching a chill."

He gives me a full, slow smile, and inwardly I wince even as my heart violently spasms. The Incredible Grin. Any moment now I'm going to knock over a bowl of candies or accidentally hex a small child.

"So," Fred says at last, startling me out of my reverie, "what brings you to our neck of the woods, Hermione?"

I glance back up at George and notice he's rubbing the back of his neck and actually _blushing_. Why on earth is he blushing? I groan inwardly. I must have something stuck in my teeth or on my face and he's embarrassed to tell me about it.

I clear my throat roughly and turn back to Fred. "Well, I'm done with all my classes. Your mum's invited me to stay at the Burrow for the summer, and I just thought I'd come by and say hello."

Fred gives me a grin that is much too bright for the innocent things I just said. "Always nice of you to drop by and see us. Isn't it, Georgie?" He grins even wider at his brother and I look at George curiously.

He just smirks at Fred and gives me a small smile. "Certainly is, Freddie. You done with your classes 'til next term, then?"

I shake my head. "No, actually, I graduated."

"What?" he exclaims. "Isn't that early? Why didn't you let any of us know? Mum wanted to throw you a big party and everything."

I shrug. "It wasn't that big a deal—I didn't walk or anything. McGonagall offered me a job at Hogwarts as an Arithmancy professor, so I rushed through all my courses and graduated early."

"Hogwarts, eh?" Fred interjects with a smirk. "Always knew you'd end up back there someday, Granger. Vector finally kick the bucket?"

I try and scowl at him for his insensitive language, but again, sarcasm. Gets me every time. "She's retiring," I finally reply with a defeated grin.

Fred looks a bit disturbed. "She was teaching when _Dad_ went to school," he mumbles under his breath. He shakes his head and glances up again. "As for a party, Mum's not going to give up that easy. You just wait, Hermione. We'll get you drunk, maybe let you take advantage of George." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I'd pleasure you myself, but…"

"I wouldn't want to go up against Angie," I quip, inwardly applauding my ability to play off such an embarrassing suggestion with such grace. "Don't exactly fancy getting beat up with a broom."

Fred smirks at me. "You'd be surprised. In real life she may seem like a domineering, fearsome creature but in the bedroom…"

I gag and hold up a hand. "Please, stop. What you and your wife do in your private time is certainly _not_ anything I want to know about." Fred and Angie got married a year after the final battle, once he and George had gotten WWW back on its feet. Now she's pregnant with their first baby, due in three months. To say Fred was shocked when he found out is an understatement…let's just say that my falling down the stairs looked like a graceful pirouette in comparison.

George and I share an equally disgusted look and Fred just laughs some more. I glance at the clock on the wall and gasp. "Oh, I should be going. Your mum's expecting me by five."

"We'll see you Sunday, then," George says.

"Yeah, and feel free to come by _any_ time," Fred adds, raising an eyebrow and smirking at me. "George and I are always just _thrilled_ to see you."

I give him a tentative smile and glance at George, who seems to be giving Fred an exasperated sort of look. He turns back to me quickly and smiles kindly. "Always a pleasure."

"Okay, then," I say slowly, confused by their strange behavior. I will never really understand these two. "See you later then."

I make it safely out the doorway and applaud myself on a fairly accident-free visit, but I've barely rounded the corner when the last snow of spring falls off of a store roof and onto my head.


	2. Chapter 2

I spend my first couple of days at the Burrow apparating back and forth between Hogwarts, finalizing paperwork, meeting with Professor Vector for some last "words of wisdom", and spending time with the professors who once taught me. Mrs. Weasley, who now insists that I call her Molly, has decided that a party _must_ be thrown for my graduation, and it will happen within a week. For the sake of her sanity I convince her to just bake a cake and have a normal Sunday dinner. It takes me awhile, but I finally convince her that I don't want a big shebang, and at last she agrees. I'm excited to see the whole Weasley family, especially Ginny and Harry, whom I haven't seen in several months. They got married five months ago and I've been at school, so there hasn't really been a chance to get together.

By Saturday Molly and I are in full party-planning mode, which basically consists of figuring out what kind of cake to bake and hanging some streamers up around the house. It's strange to be at the Burrow now that it's just her and Arthur, but Molly and I have gotten along surprisingly well in recent years. We both like cooking, reading, and doing various home projects. For instance, I've only been here three days, but we've already refinished all the kitchen furniture and are in the midst of sewing a baby quilt for Fred and Angie, thanks to a DIY Muggle magazine I thought Molly might enjoy. By the end of my summer here I'm confident we'll have practically rebuilt the house.

Sunday morning I decide I want to knit a throw for my new home at Hogwarts. I remember how old and drafty the building is, and a throw sounds cozy and warm and inviting. I have lots of yarn in different colors but not enough to have a solid throw, so I decide it'll just be a sort of crazy quilt and go for it.

By three o'clock I'm about halfway through and my fingers feel permanently cramped. I help Molly with dinner—roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and the cake we made last night—and by four thirty Weasleys are starting to pour into the Burrow. Bill, Fleur, and little Victoire are the first to arrive, with Harry and Ginny popping in soon after. I'm in the midst of talking Ginny's ear off about what's been going on lately when Ron and his fiancée, Mary Beth, arrive.

During the final battle Ron was hit with a Cruciatus Curse and ended up in a coma-like state at St. Mungo's for two straight months. He's alright now, of course, but it was a horrible time.

After he finally recovered, Ron and I had a long, difficult talk and decided that, though we were attracted to each other, neither of us really thought we could have a successful relationship as a couple. We agreed to remain friends and mutually parted ways. And since then things have worked out really well for him. Six months later he started working as an auror, along with Harry, and it was there that he met a pretty young secretary named Mary Beth Lewis. I met her for the first time about a year and a half ago, and I like her quite a lot. She's cute and funny and quiet, and Ron is obviously smitten with her. He asked her to marry him last Christmas.

I give both Ron and Mary Beth big hugs and Ron goes to talk with Bill and Arthur. I'm right in the middle of gushing over Mary Beth's ring and chatting about their upcoming wedding when I hear the dulcet sounds of the Weasley twins and the irritated sound of Angelina Weasley.

I turn to smile at the trio and go over to hug Angie. It's the first time I've seen her pregnant belly and we talk for awhile about the baby and my new job at Hogwarts while Fred and George go bully Ron about finally finding his "one true love" and annoy their mother as she tries to put the final touches on dinner.

Finally dinner's served and we all go out to the garden, where Molly, Arthur, and I set up the table and chairs earlier. I end up sitting across from Fred, George, and Angie, in between Bill and Mary Beth.

"So are you and Ron planning on getting married here at the Burrow?" I ask Mary Beth, devouring the delicious dinner Molly made.

She nods. "That's the plan so far. We're both pretty broke, and it's probably the easiest option anyway."

"So we'll finally get the meet your family! Ginny was telling me that Ron got along really well with your parents."

Mary Beth smiles gently. "They really like him. So do my brothers, which was a little surprising to me. I'm the baby of the family, so they've always been very protective, but they gave us their stamp of approval." She laughs quietly at her joke. Honestly, she's just about the sweetest girl I've ever met—it's no wonder Ron treats her like she's made of spun glass.

"And, what about you?" Mary Beth asks. "Do you see your parents often?"

I swallow my bite of roast beef and clear my throat. "Um…I actually haven't seen them in about four years. I…well, I erased their memories in order to protect them from the Death Eaters, and they're settled into their new life now, so… I figure it's best to just let them live it without me. If they're happy, I'm happy."

Mary Beth looks at me sympathetically and gently covers my hand with her own. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. That's really hard."

I shrug and give her a small smile. "Well, I got my mum's hair at least." I scrunch it up in my palm to demonstrate the rather excessive volume. "Something to pass onto my kids, I guess."

She smiles widely at me. "Are you seeing someone, then?"

"Yes, Hermione, are you seeing someone?" Fred suddenly asks rather loudly. I jump, amazed that he was even able to hear our conversation over the general hubbub, and look up to see that both he and George are watching me rather intently. Of course all conversation at the table suddenly dies and everyone sits waiting for my answer.

I blush to the roots of my hair, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I clear my throat quietly and shake my head. "No, not at the moment."

Fred raises both eyebrows, obviously hinting he wants me to say more, but I just look pointedly back at my plate and take a bite of mashed potatoes.

An incredibly awkward silence descends until finally Molly pipes up, announcing it's time for dessert. Bill starts up a new conversation with me about the work his department is doing in conjunction with the Department of Magical Creatures, and I purposefully lose myself in the subject until Molly startles me with a piece of chocolate cake and everything's back to normal.

After dessert I find myself in deep conversation with Mary Beth about the pros and cons of the new political system that was put in place after the war while the rest of the family adjourns to the house. We differ on some points, but I have to say that Mary Beth continues to surprise me—she has strong opinions and argues them very well. The more I get to know her, the more I like her.

Eventually Ron comes to collect his fiancée and I chat with him for awhile. They invite me to their flat for dinner next week, and once again I'm thoroughly pleased with their chemistry and overall obvious happiness in being together.

I remain sitting at the table finishing my piece of cake when suddenly George plops down in the seat Mary Beth just vacated. "Hey, Granger," he says with a grin. Thankfully it's not the IG, so I'm able to refrain from choking on the bite I just ingested.

"Hi, George," I smile at him. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," he replies with a nod. "Mum says the two of you have been doing some major work around the house."

I laugh. "Yeah, apparently we both like home improvement projects." I shrug and gesture at the table. "Behold, the newly refinished dining room furniture."

He chuckles and runs his hand over the grain of the table. "It looks really nice. How long did it take you to do that?"

"About a day," I reply, taking another bite of cake. "Next week we're going to sew new curtains for the living room." My hand's starting to cramp again, so I flex my fingers.

"What's wrong with your hand?" George asks, taking note of the movement.

I smile sheepishly. "This morning I decided to knit a throw, so I was at it for about six hours."

He gapes at me. "_Six hours?!_ How is that even possible? I'm surprised you can even move your fingers!"

I chuckle and shrug. "It took a little while, but I almost have full range of movement again."

We sit in silence for a little while as I finish my cake, and then he pulls a little box wrapped in pale green paper out of his trouser pocket. He sets it gently in front of me.

"What's this?" I ask, excitedly picking up the package and studying it.

He shrugs, not quite meeting my eyes. "I thought you deserved a graduation gift, especially after how hard you worked to finish early." He looks up and holds my gaze for a couple moments more before gesturing to the box. "Open it up! I want to know if you like it."

I grin as I start tearing open the paper. "I'm sure I'll like it, George." My voice trails off as I open the little box and see a small, simple stainless steel brooch in the shape of a carnation, with a tiny bee on one of the petals. "Oh, George."

"You said once your dad called you 'little bee' when you were growing up," he explains, touching the tip of his fingers to the little insect. "And…I know you miss them, so I thought this might help you remember them a bit." He shrugs, staring rather intently at my silverware. "Looks like something a professor would wear."

Much to my chagrin, my eyes are welling up with tears, but I lift the pin gently out of the box and pin it to the collar of my shirt. "How does it look?" I ask in a sniffly, tear-filled voice.

George smiles. "Nice, Professor Granger."

Before he can make another joke I throw my arms around him and sniffle into his neck. "Thank you so much, George." I pull back and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "I love it."

He blushes and looks away. "Well, I'm glad then." He gestures to the house. "I think everyone's about ready to leave. You want to come in and say goodbye to Angie?"

I pop my last bite of cake into my mouth and get up from my seat. "Come on then."

We walk slowly back to the house. "So, _Uncle_ George," I say with a grin, raising my eyebrows at him, "are you excited about the new little one?"

He laughs. "No one could be as excited as Fred and Mum, but I'd say I'm a close third. I'm going to spoil that kid rotten."

I fake a shudder, noticing the mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'm starting to think that maybe the Weasley _twins_ were just a warm up to the Weasley twin _offspring_."

He shrugs and winks at me. I just barely escape tripping over a tree root. "Well, now that old Voldemort's dead," he continues, apparently not noticing my little spasm, "someone's gotta keep us on our toes, eh?"

I decide he doesn't really need a reply to that and he follows me into the house, my fingers gently touching the brooch that reminds of what a kind, caring man he is.

I kiss Angie's cheek, promising to come visit her soon, joke around with Fred a bit more, hug little Victoire and smile at Bill and Fleur. He's in the corner of my eye as he shakes hands with his dad and kisses his mum, as he throws Victoire into the air and laughs loudly with her.

I pride myself on some really phenomenal grace and poise—at least when it comes to him—when he grins at me, gently chucking his finger under my chin as he tells me to have a good night. I manage to form a coherent response and rearrange my features into a fairly attractive expression.

All in all, it's a moment to be proud of.

Later that night, as I recall what he said when giving me the pin, I manage to ram my shoulder into a wall and give myself a spiffing new bruise.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you all for your sweet reviews. I kind of hate this chapter, but it is what it is. Please review! :)**

**I don't own anything.**

My time at the Burrow seems to fly by. I'm really amazed at how well Molly and I get along—if she'd been my age when she came to Hogwarts we probably would have been really good friends. As it is we have a really great relationship. And of course Arthur and I have always hit it off really well. I know they're both being so nice to me because they know I don't have parents of my own anymore, and that really touches me.

By the end of my fourth week I have a pretty good schedule going. Sunday mornings are relaxing, and the evenings are spent with the whole clan. Mondays and Tuesdays I usually visit Vector at Hogwarts and spend Monday night there in my new quarters, trying to glean everything I can from my old professor. She's really a much nicer woman than I ever thought while I was in school—I think she's just misunderstood.

George just laughed when I expressed this opinion to him at a Sunday supper at the Burrow. I knocked my glass of water over into his lap.

It depends on the week, but sometimes I'll spend Tuesday night at Hogwarts too and spend a couple hours on Wednesday fixing up my new place. I have a bedroom and adjoining bathroom, a sitting room, and a small kitchen that doubles as a dining room. This part of the castle was destroyed in the final battle and rebuilt so all the staff have new living quarters. My room is pretty bare—just basic furniture so far—so I'm trying to fix it up with some little plants, a couple of paintings on the walls, and other pretty things that will make it feel more like a home once I live here full time.

Thursdays I go to Hogsmeade with Molly for the weekly shopping. We buy food for the week and whatever supplies we need for the projects we're working on. Often we spend the whole day just window shopping and discussing various tasks, such as what I'll need for my new quarters at Hogwarts or what color to repaint the living room at the Burrow.

Thursday nights, after I help Molly back to the Burrow with all our purchases, I often go to dinner at Fred and Angelina's flat. Sometimes Ron and Mary Beth join us, or Harry and Ginny, but more often it's just the four of us—Fred, Angelina, George, and I. It can get a bit couple-ish, but Thursdays are fun. I'm helping Angie decorate the nursery for the baby who'll be here in just a few weeks.

Fridays and Saturdays are often a bit random. Fridays I don't normally plan anything, and Saturdays Fleur usually brings Victoire over so Molly and I can take care of her while her mum gets some errands done. Fred, Angie, and George often come spend the day and we swim or just hang out. Usually Fred and George will spend some time on their brooms while Angie and I discuss plans for the nursery.

On my fifth Saturday of the summer we have a day just like that. Fred, Angie, and George arrive around noon, just in time for lunch. Victoire makes us all laugh with her obvious disdain for the cucumbers of which Molly wants her to "just take one bite, love".

After lunch Angie and I take Victoire to walk around the pond for a little while. The little girl has no fear of the water and I get myself pretty well soaked trying to keep her from just diving in completely. Angie laughs and waddles after us. She's really such a cute pregnant woman, like she's hiding a basketball under her shirt.

"So what's the plan, Hermione?" Angie asks as I finally just give up and let Victoire sit in the shallows and splash around. We have extra clothes in the house.

"The plan?" I ask, glancing at her quizzically.

She shrugs and gives me a sly grin. "I really hope you're not planning to be like McGonagall and just work at Hogwarts until you're old and wrinkly and alone. Any prospects?"

I blush and shake my head. She's the last person in the entire world I would tell…she'll tell Fred, who'll tell George, who'll run the other way. "Not right now, no."

Her soft, low laugh tells me she doesn't believe me for a moment. "You know, it sure is a good thing you never had to bluff to the Dark Lord in order to save all our lives, or we wouldn't be here today."

I roll my eyes and focus intently on Victoire. "Yeah, probably so…" I let my voice trail off, hoping desperately that she'll just let it go.

"George isn't seeing anyone, you know."

I glance at her quickly and see she's dead serious.

And, of course this is what I suspected. But I've been _dying_ to find out for certain, not wanting to get my hopes up and then have them dashed when he brings someone to Sunday dinner.

I go for nonchalance. "Oh. Yeah, he hadn't mentioned anyone."

She seems to read much more into this than is necessary. "Oh, so you two have _talked_ about it?"

I look at her skeptically, wondering if perhaps those pregnancy hormones have affected her brain in ways other than emotion. "Yes ," I deadpan, "we hashed out our past relationships and declared our undying love for each other."

She doesn't appear to be dissuaded, and in fact appears encouraged by my statement. "Well, I didn't think so, but I think you at least _want_ him to declare his undying love for you."

She catches me completely off guard and I blush scarlet. "What? I do not…I never said…"

Angelina just smirks at me and raises her hand to shade her eyes as she glances at something over my left shoulder. "Here come the boys."

I turn to look at "the boys" just as Fred calls out, "Angelina, my dear, my darling wife! How fares our young offspring?" He drops to his knees in front of her and presses an ear to her belly while George comes to stand next to me with a grin.

"_Your_ young offspring is bouncing about on my bladder, dear husband," Angie quips in reply, playing off his humor. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to the house of your forefathers?"

Fred leaps to his feet with a grin and snogs his wife rather passionately for such an innocent statement. "It would be an honor, my dear one." He looks over his shoulder to wave at George and I as he clasps Angie's hand and they make their way toward the Burrow. "Take care of the maiden Hermione, brother!" he calls out dramatically. "And do take care that the offspring of the eldest Weasley son does not submerge herself in the pond water." He waggles his eyebrows at me. "Leeches, you know."

"Leeches!" I shriek, rushing over to Victoire and hauling her out of the water. "I didn't know there were—"

I look up to see George doubled over laughing at me as I frantically check Victoire's chubby legs for blood-sucking creatures. She starts to fuss and squirm as I glare at him, and at last I put her down. She quickly resumes splashing about in the shallows.

"He's just joking, Hermione," George assures, coming over to stand next to me. "Only creatures I've ever seen in _these_ waters are fish."

I scowl at him, but he just chuckles and gestures for me to sit next to him on the dry sand a few paces back from the water. I plop down next to him and smooth my skirt over my knees. We're quiet for a good while, just enjoying the sun and watching Victoire, and I allow my mind to wander.

I never really even _considered_ George while we were at school together. He was just Ron's older brother, Fred's twin, a first class prankster. After he and Fred left school I hardly saw him, just occasionally when I went to WWW—assuming I was even in the country, considering the amount of time Harry, Ron, and I were gallivanting about—and maybe at Christmas.

And then one day about a year and a half into my time at uni, when I was visiting the Burrow for my summer holiday, he was just…_there_. Maybe it was that Harry and Ron were off in London and it was just Ginny and I there for the summer, so I spent more time talking with him when he was over, maybe I was just finally at a place where I could care for him. But one day I just glanced up at him from my bowl of morning porridge and realized that I cared about him, quite a lot more than I cared about Fred and even more than Ron, or maybe just in a different way than Ron.

The point is, I was basically hit over the head with a theoretical baseball bat to discover that I cared for _George Weasley_, or all people.

And of course, the more I analyzed it, the more I realized that it wasn't necessarily an illogical infatuation. George is a really good man. He's funny and sweet and very friendly. Took me long enough to realize it, but at least I finally did.

I'm torn from my intense study of George's hand—and musings of what exactly his fingers would feel like intertwined with mine—by him calling out to Victoire to try not to get mud in her hair. That beautiful Granger blush comes to my face and I clear my throat awkwardly, realizing the silence had gone on for quite a while. "How was flying?"

For some reason George's face begins to redden rather alarmingly by this statement. I had thought it a very innocent query, but the more I study him the redder he becomes. "Are you alright?" I inquire, concerned.

He clears his throat harshly and nods. "Just fine. Flying was fine, everything's fine."

I snicker and turn back towards Victoire. "Well, fine then."

His eyes are all twinkly with humor when I finally look at him again, and his face seems to have returned to its normal pallor. "How are your lesson plans coming?" he inquires.

I let out such a loud groan, I apparently startle both him and Victoire, who stares at me for a moment before picking up a handful of sand and smearing it across her knee. "I'm so far behind," I moan, dropping my face into my hands dramatically. "When I was at uni I figured I'd have so much more time to actually figure out how to _teach_. I mean, the seventh years will only be four or five years younger than me! I _knew_ some of them!"

"Well, you'll just have to act as an authority figure," George suggests logically. "I can even instruct you on it. After all, I spent most of my time at Hogwarts stirring up the lives of those so called 'authority figures', so I'm a bit of an expert."

I raise my eyebrows at his lofty tone. "Oh, you are, are you?" I sigh and decide to just take his advice anyway. "Well, how do I command the respect of the students then? I'm still so young, I fear they'll just walk all over me."

"Well," he begins, "I think you just have to make it clear that you mean business. Take Vector for instance. She had no problem taking dozens of points away for sass or ill humor. She knew how to take a joke, but sometimes she was almost as bad as Snape, being so strict I mean."

I frown. "Wait, so you mean I should be like Snape?"

"Please, no," he answers quickly, giving me a gentle smile. " 'Sides, you're far too pretty to pull off the whole Snape-like appearance, and I think that was half his act."

He says something else, but I miss it completely—he just said I was _pretty!_ I just hope whatever he said wasn't too important.

"Nah," he continues, "I just mean you can't be afraid to take points away, even if it's your own house. That's one thing Fred and I always admired about McGonagall—sure, she was our Head of House, but she wasn't afraid to show us she meant business. And don't accept late work or sloppy work or anything like that. I think I might have tried a lot harder in school if the professors had just seen what I was capable of and asked me to rise to _that_, rather than the class standard."

I wish I had some way to take notes. "Okay, but what about jokes? I really don't think there's such a harm in _all_ of them, unless they're meant to hurt or embarrass someone." I feel the back of my neck heat up as I recall a time in my second year when a Slytherin girl slipped a potion into my soup that made all my hair go so staticky, I had a two foot afro surrounding me like a brown aura. It was so humiliating. I still blush to think about it.

George grins wryly at me. "Well, you know I agree with you _there_." He seems to ponder this for a moment. "I think you should just make sure your students know that, yes, you have a sense of humor and can appreciate a prank, but you won't tolerate anything that'll do harm or cause injury or anything like that." He squints his eyes and smiles as Victoire stands up, spins in a circle, and plops down again with a splash. "Does that help at all?"

I nod quickly. "It really does. I understand what you mean—there's a balance to be had." I turn back toward Victoire and sigh heavily. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see how I do."

He grins at me. "You'll do great, Hermione. S'what you were meant to do. I'll take you out before you go and get you so wasted, you won't be able to worry about it anymore."

I smirk. "Gee, thanks. It's always been my goal to meet my future colleagues while suffering from a hangover."

"Well then, I'm just trying to help you fulfill a dream," he quips, holding out his hands to Victoire as she comes and sits on his lap, wet and cold as she snuggles into his shirt and gets him thoroughly messy.

My heart stutters as he rubs her chubby arms to try and warm her up, and I decide he shouldn't be allowed around small children. I'm having a hard enough time trying not to fall for him completely.

George scoops Victoire up in a little bundle and we walk back to the Burrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you all for the lovely reviews! They really encourage me to keep on writing. I hope everyone had a great New Year. :)**

**Man, the more I write this the more I realize I am _terrible_ at writing romantic moments. If anyone has any suggestions I will gladly take them into consideration-I'm starting to feel completely lost with this story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

As the summer passes by, I begin to panic a little bit.

Okay, a lot.

It's just…I thought I had more time. I was supposed to have at least two more years at uni, and now suddenly I'm a _professor_. I still feel so young. I mean, yes, I was sort of forced to grow up early, what with the return of the Dark Lord and all, but I still don't feel prepared. At all.

You, know they say your first five years as a teacher are spent just trying to stay afloat.

I need to be at Hogwarts by August 15, two weeks before the beginning of term. I spend the last weeks of July in a panic, declining all social invitations, putting all projects, and basically hardly leaving Ginny's room for two weeks straight. I don't even go to Hogwarts—Vector has officially retired and gone to her family home in Romania.

Ginny's room is in a state of disarray, which also testifies to my stressed state. Normally I'm a very neat, tidy person, but there are papers and folders and all manner of things strewn about the room. I know where everything is, of course, but I very nearly yelled at Molly for the first time in my entire life when she came in one day while I was eating breakfast and attempted to "straighten things up".

The only time I emerge from my cave is for Sunday dinners. I haven't been to Fred and Angie's for weeks, and every Sunday there's always the concerned expressions and questions if I'm alright.

I know I'm pushing myself too hard. I know I look pale and sickly and skinny. But if I can just get this done, everything will be fine.

Until I start teaching, that is.

The third week of July marks two weeks since I lost my sanity. I stagger downstairs just before Molly serves dinner, knock down a couple aspirin without a word to anyone, and promptly fall asleep in Arthur's big, cushy armchair. To say this is a phenomenal feat is no exaggeration—I am surrounded by no less than thirteen Weasleys, Percy and his wife Penny having joined us tonight.

I have a glorious dream where I'm back at Hogwarts studying for my OWLs—how wrong I was in thinking those days were stressful! It's the most relaxed I've felt in a long time. I'm nice and warm and cozy. In fact, even in my dream-like state I come to the decision that I'll just live in this lovely armchair for the rest of my life.

So it's understandable, I think, that I am _extremely_ put out when someone starts shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me.

"Go away," I mutter in the harshest tone I can muster, which is really more of a moan, and the words aren't exactly intelligible.

"Hermione," a low voice says softly. The voice chuckles. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

At the sound of that horrifying statement my mother used to wake me up with every morning in the summers—I really think she did it just to _annoy_ me into the land of the living—I have to at least open my eyes to see who it is.

George Weasley is crouching in front of my very comfortable throne, giving me a gentler form of the IG.

It's more powerful than usual, I think due to the gentleness. My heart nearly stops beating within my chest.

For several moments I remain perfectly still and entirely incoherent, not daring move an inch lest some tragedy befall us all because I can't control myself when such power is wielded by such a person. From this very armchair I could, theoretically, bring the whole house down around us. I don't move until finally George's smile dims a bit and my powers of locomotion and speech are restored.

"Whd'yawan?" I mumble sleepily.

Well, they are _being_ restored, I suppose I should say. After experiencing the most powerful IG to date, I think it's reasonable that it takes a bit longer than normal for me to return to my typical, logical self.

At my words, which obviously show to the full extent the intelligence with which I acquired a master's degree, George grins again, though not as widely. "You awake then? I really can't tell—you and I've been chatting on and off for the last ten minutes."

My eyes widen. I have absolutely no memory of the ten minutes he speaks of—what could possibly have passed from my lips during that time?

Upon seeing my look of horror George chuckles. "Don't worry, we just talked about Every Flavor Beans for a little while. Apparently you could live on lemon-flavored ones ' 'til the day I just die, Georgie', but the olive-flavored ones are 'simply abomnable'."

I can't help but blush and snicker all at once. "Well, apparently I'm very passionate about Every Flavor Beans when I'm asleep," I quip as I pull myself into an upright position and settle my feet firmly in front of the chair. George remains crouching in front of me and takes the liberty of resting his elbows on my knees.

Okay, fine—I would have _thrown_ the liberty at him if he'd asked.

"You feelin' better?" he inquires, his expression suddenly becoming concerned. "Apparently you needed a nap. You're working yourself too hard, Hermione, even harder than when we were at Hogwarts as kids."

"I know," I nod. "I'm nearly finished—I just needed these past couple weeks to wrap everything up. I should have it all done by Wednesday."

"Good," he says with a small smile. "Then you can come to dinner on Thursday." He gestures to the small table next to me, upon which sits a plate loaded with shepherd's pie and two bread rolls. "Thought you might like some food, so's you don't waste away on us."

"Hermione!" Fred suddenly exclaims as he and Angie walk over hand-in-hand. "You've finally decided to grace us with your presence!" He waggles his eyebrows at me. "I do hope you and Georgie engaged in some intimate pillow talk in his attempts to wake you."

I blush and drop my eyes to where George's elbows are still resting on my knees.

"Pillow talk?" George asks. "What's that?"

I glance up to see Angie elbow Fred rather violently in the gut, but it doesn't seem to faze him. "Pillow talk, my dear brother," he continues in a rather pained tone, "refers to 'the conversation exchanged between two sexual partners for the purpose of bonding', typically taking place in a bed, or really wherever…events of a sexual nature occur, I believe you defined it, my love." He looks at Angie pointedly before turning back to me and shrugging. "We watched a Muggle movie by the name. It was…enlightening."

George has been silent throughout Fred's entire explanation, and I hesitantly meet his eyes to see his reaction. He just winks at me and rises to his feet to look Fred in the eye, saying, "Well, Freddie, I _was_ attempting to flirt with the fair Hermione over the choice topic of Every Flavor Beans, but your sudden presence has put a bit of a damper on things."

My sudden intake of breath catches on the touch of _honesty_ in his voice.

Fred actually looks rather apologetic at his brother's words, but he continues, "Georgie, that's no topic over which to woo a lady." He tugs Angie closer with an arm about her shoulders and says loftily, "Quidditch is a _far_ more romantic choice." Angie rolls her eyes.

I gape blankly at the three of them, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that George is talking, rather seriously, about _flirting_ with me.

Both brothers seem to come to their senses just then and look back at me. I can see a blush working its way over George's neck. Fred just smirks.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence and staring, Angie comes to my rescue. "You coming to dinner tomorrow night, Hermione?"

I sincerely hope the depth of my gratitude toward her is shown through my gaze. "Yeah, around 7?"

She nods. "I was hoping you would help me wax my legs."

I blink stupidly. This is by far one of the strangest nights of my life, and after a lifetime of Harry Potter that's saying a lot. Every Flavor Beans, George flirting with me, shaving Angie's legs…

"Umm…"

She laughs and puts her hands around her belly. "I can't reach now that I've got this basketball in front of me. And this guy," she nudges Fred, "managed to practically slit my ankle open with a razor last time I asked for his help. I have more than enough wax, so you can do yours too if you want."

I smile, nodding as Fred protests that it certainly wasn't his _intention_ to nearly bring his pregnant wife to an early end. "Sure! So do you want me to come early, or we can do it after?"

"Let's do it after dinner. Fred and I are going to spend the day finishing up the nursery." She finally puts an arm around her husband, who's been holding her close to him this whole, awkward time. "You ready to go then?"

"Sure thing, love," he says amiably. "And Hermione," he continues, turning back to me (I knew that amicability was too good to be true), "if you need any help _at all_ with waxing your own legs after you've done your work on my dear wife," he winks and nudges George, "I'm sure George here would be _more_ than happy to assist you."

"Fred!" Angie exclaims, elbowing him again in the gut as she fights back a laugh.

Mortified, I look up to see George blushing again and glaring pointedly at his brother, who is just as pointedly ignoring him. "Come along, Angie!" Fred says, leading his wife away abruptly. "It's long past the young one's bedtime."

"Sorry about that," George says with a small smile. "Fred thrives on innuendo."

I grin. "And you?"

"Sarcasm."

I chuckle and come to stand in front of him. "Well, thanks for the food. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you then," he says with a wink. "Don't work yourself too hard."

"I won't," I promise with a small smile. "Thanks for…" I blush, "taking care of me."

"Always," he says softly, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. The honesty in his tone, as well as the intimate physical touch, is enough to render me mute as he walks away.

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I may be a bit hit and miss for the next week or two as I'll be one vacation. Poor Hermione-I'm writing with a certain empathy to the stress of a teacher, as that's my major. I still have two years myself, but I'm already starting to freak out a bit about how little time I have left.**


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